Art Of Deception
by NamikazeWolf
Summary: After disappearing for two weeks Reid re-emerges only to be arrested for the murder of 12 people. As the team delve deeper into the mystery the more Reid becomes a suspect and not only that but someone tipped off the higher ups that Reid may be mentally unstable. Will the team be able to prove Reid's innocence or is Reid finally succumbing to his mother's illness?
1. Chapter 1

**Art of Deception**

**NamikazeWolf**

**Hello fanfiction, this is my first fan fic (official one at least) I plan on making it a multi- chapter fic. Lots of support would be appreciated.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters, no matter how much I dream**

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"_Most of the bad guys in the real world don't know that they are bad guys. You don't get a flashing warning sign that you're about to damn yourself. It sneaks up on you when you aren't looking."__―__Jim Butcher_

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_All mistakes are my own_

Prologue

Detective Rizzo walked up the cold alley, her steel-toed combat boots splashing through a puddle of water. She approached the still form of the young man on the ground. He was their tenth victim in the past two weeks. She had dealt with a lot of serial killers in her career but this one topped the cake. She pulled on a pair gloves, kneeling down to examine the body, at least, what was left of it. The young man was missing his left arm and leg as well as his right arm. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, he had black hair with slight build.

"Rizzo," the detective looked up to see her partner come and kneel down beside her.

"What?" she asked with a sigh.

"I think it's time we call it in." the detective looked up at her partner, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"You're right." Rizzo pulled out her phone and dialed in a number. "Yes…Can you patch me through to SSA Aaron Hotchner, tell him it's Detective Rizzo…yes," she looked down at the dismembered body. "Tell him it's urgent."

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Two weeks ago

Morgan sat at his desk his pen scribbling on the morning stack of papers that needed his signature. They had just returned from a case two days ago in , a man was abducting and killing older women. Apparrently his mom had beaten him as a child so he resented all women. He had racked up a body count of five before he had finally been arrested. They had saved his last victim, 47 year old Vanessa Henderson, and had happily returned her to her family. There had been resistance from the man upon his capture. Morgan smiled as he remembered the look of surprise on the man's face as Morgan had come barreling aroound the corner and tackled him to the ground. That was one thing he loved about his job, knocking the bad guys to the ground.

"Good morning," Morgan looked up as Prentiss took a seat at her desk a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of files in the other. She was wearing black slacks with a burgundy sweater, black shoes, and her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"Morning Princess," he said smiling at her. "Do anything fun over the weekend?"

Prentiss scoffed at Morgan's sarcasm knowing they had spent their weekend chasing after an unsub. That was one thing Morgan didn't like about his job. Prentiss plopped down in her seat with a sigh. "I wish these guys would respect our weekends so I _could_ have fun." She began flipping through her folders filling out the paperwork that went to each assignment. She still had to fill out the papers for a case from last week. The team had been sent to Atlanta, Georgia where a 22 year old man was kidnapping college girls and sexually assaulting them for three days before stabbing them in the heart. At first they had deduced that he had had his heart broken by a girl that he had lost his virginity to but they were wrong. Apparently, the unsub's father had raped and stabbed his mother in front of him before taking a gun and shooting the kid and himself. What the father didn't know was that his son had survived the gunshot and had been traumatized by the event; his mind stuck in a fantasy that impulsed him to re-enact what happened to his mother with other girls. Unfortunatly, when they had gone in for the arrest he had tried to pull a gun on them and the police had opened fire on him. He was announced dead thirty minutes later by the EMT. Emily loved her job but it was cases like these that got to her and kept her up at night.

"Yea, I hear you," Morgan responded, flashing her a knowing smile. He paused and leaned over her desk looking at the file she was working on. "Is that the case from last week?"

"Yes," Emily sighed heavily. "I may be a little behind on my case files but I'll catch up today."

"I don't think so." Emily looked up at Morgan confused and followed his line of sight. Hotch was in JJ's office talking to her about something. He had a stack of case files in his hand and from the look on his face it was a bad one. Most people couldn't tell what Hotch is thinking because of the stoic look he always has on his face but after working with the man for a couple years Emily had learned that by the scrunching of his eyebrows, the slight twitch of his lip and the narrowing of his eyes he was upset about the case he had been given. "Looks like we got a case. Too bad for you Princess."

Emily deflated into her seat and flicked her pen back and forth between her fingers. So much for catching up on work today. Both Morgan and Prentiss looked up as JJ and Hotch exited JJ's office. JJ headed towards the round room and Hotch stepped towards Rossi's office.

"Team, round room meeting," he said knocking on Rossi's door. He poked his head inside, said a few words, and then Rossi was following him out of the office and across the bullpen.

Morgan and Prentiss gathered themselves and followed after the two older gentlemen. They both walked in and sat down in their appointed seats, Prentiss on the far left, Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi skipping a seat and sitting down in that order. Hotch took a seat before pausing in his seat, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Where's Reid?"

Morgan and Prentiss looked at each other. Neither had noticed that the young genius had not shown up for work yet. He usually was there before Morgan and Prentiss but he had yet to show up; and Reid wasn't usually late. The last time he was late had been during the Tobias Hankel incident. A knowing look flashed across all the agents' faces. Worry and concern for their young agent clearly visible on their visages. Reid had been clean for 10 months, as unlikely as it was that he was using again, the thought didn't cease to cross their minds. He had been kind of off since the Owen Savage case, even though they had saved Owen it had brought up some painful memories for the kid. Morgan shuddered at the story Reid had told him from when he was in highschool. Being tricked by Alexa Lisbon, stripped naked by the football team, and tied to a goal post for all to see; and not one person helped him. Sometimes kids could be so cruel. It was their past that made them perfect for this job. As much as it took from them it was worth it to save people's lives. But he knew that Reid was stronger than what he was given credit for.

"I'll call him," Morgan stated getting up from his seat and taking out his phone. He dialed Reid's number, stepping out of the room. He listened as the phone continued to ring. "Come on kid, pick up…dammit" Morgan sighed in frustration when all he got was Reid's voicemail. He was about to hang up when he decided to leave him a message. "Hey Reid, it's Morgan, where you at? We got a case, call me."

"Nothing?" Morgan looked up to see Hotch sticking his head out the door awaiting to hear from his youngest agent. Morgan shook his head and watched as Hotch sighed before nodding. "We'll pick him up and brief him once we get on the plane. C'mon."

Morgan walked back into the room a bad feeling starting to make itself known in his gut. He knew something was wrong and Morgan sent up a silent prayer that it wasn't because of Reid. Taking a deep breath he put his phone back into his pocket and walked back into the room.

Hotch and Morgan pulled up outside of Reid's apartment building. The others had already headed to the plane to wait for them. Morgan closed the passenger side door and stepped around the front of the car and skipped up the front steps and into the old red bricked building. The apartment building itself was twelve stories high and had over two hundred rooms in it. Hotch and Morgan walked to the stairs and headed up to the second floor when Reid lived. They had tried calling him after the briefing was over and on their way over there but all they'd gotten so far was his voicemail. Nobody wanted to admit it but there weren't a lot of reasons that Reid wouldn't answer his phone. Morgan just hoped that the kid wasn't out of it when they got there. He had been doing so well and he knew that starting again would ruin him. They made it up the stairs and walked up to Reid's door.

"Reid?" Hotch called knocking on the young agent's door. "You in there?"

No response.

"Kid," Morgan called banging on his door a little louder.

Still no response.

"Call him again. Maybe he's out," Hotch suggested. Morgan sighed in frustration knowing how unlikely that was. Both Hotch and Morgan turned their heads to Reid's door when they heard his phone going off. Morgan closed his phone, that bad feeling returning again. Hotch reached out his hand and was upset when he found Reid's door unlocked. That was unlike him. He wouldn't leave his door unlocked like that. The two agents pulled out their guns worry filling their faces. Hotch stepped through the door his gun ready to shoot anyone that wasn't his agent. Morgan looked around Reid's apartment, not seeing anything out of place.

"Reid," Morgan called out again. Silence. Hotch moved to the left towards Reid's kitchen and Morgan went to check his room. Morgan opened the bedroom door and stopped short, his heart falling. "Hotch."

Morgan put his gun away and stepped towards the large queen-sized bed. Lying in the center of the bed was Reid's gun and credentials. Morgan headed into the adjoining bathroom even though deep down he knew he wouldn't find anything. He heard Hotch enter the bedroom, there was a pause before the sound of drawers being opened reached his ear. Morgan opened up the medicine cabinet noting that it was empty. Morgan scrunched his eyebrows in confusion before stepping back into the bedroom.

"His go-bag is missing," Hotch stated shuffling through Reid's closet and his seemingly endless supply of sweaters. "I can't find his wallet either."

"The medicine cabinet is empty as well," Morgan stated.

"I need to call the team," Hotch stepped out the room, phone already in hand.

Morgan looked around the room. Something wasn't right here but he couldn't place exactly what it was. Reid wouldn't just up and leave like that but, the missing clothes, the medicine, he left his cell so that it couldn't be tracked, all the signs pointed to him leaving. Morgan walked back out of the house just as Hotch hung up the phone.

"Everyone's on their way here and I already have another team going to Miami."

Hotch stepped back into the room and Morgan knew that the same thought had crossed his boss's mind. Did Reid really just up and leave? Or was there something else going on here?

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**Hey readers, I know it's short but I need to know if this even worth continuing. So give me some feedback and let me know if you like it. **

**Wolf out**


	2. Chapter 2

**Art of Deception**

**NamikazeWolf**

**I love you guys. I really didn't expect anyone to like or review my story so fast! But I must give a wonderful shout-out to Allydoll, thank you for the kind words of encouragement it made my day when I read it. To all of you who like this story thank you for giving it the time of day Now that I've decided to continue this fic things will really start to take off. I'm not sure how many chapters this will be but I'm hoping to fit in at least 15!**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds + Me = Not mine (sometimes I wish I was bad at math)**

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"_The moment there is suspicion about a person's motives, everything he does becomes tainted."_

_-Mahatma Gandhi_

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_All mistakes are my own_

Spencer Reid was never one for drinking. Growing up in a single parent home with a mentally disabled mother while attending high school at the age of twelve didn't make for a lot of opportunities to get drunk. Even when he made it to college he focused on educating himself and taking care of his mom. He didn't have the luxury of going to Saturday night parties or hanging out; even if he wanted to he couldn't because everyone there was at least four years his senior. Even now as a grown man he didn't drink because it dulled the mind and with his small stature and build, his mind was his only strength. So when he opened his eyes only to quickly shut them due to a deep throb behind his eyes he knew something was wrong.

Reid blinked open his eyes slowly, bracing himself for the pain. He let his eyes roam the unfamiliar space. The cheap, ugly wallpaper, the disorganized room, and the bright over head lights; nothing looked familiar; and for someone who remebered everything that was a very unnerving thought. He knew he was lying on something soft, probably a bed. With more effort than it should have taken he sat up, supporting himself on the head board. Now he got a good look at the room. It was completely trashed. The bedside table was overturned and its contents spilled out. The lamp that was most likely sitting atop it was smashed, the shards disappearing in the tan carpeting, the drawers of the dresser were opened, the clothes inside scattered across the room, some of the articles of clothing were even ripped, a mirror that had been hanging on the wall next to a door adjacent from the bed was smashed. What the hell had happened here? Reid felt something warm drip down the side of his face. He reached his hand up to just above his hairline and winced. He looked at his blood covered fingers, _concussion_,his mind deduced. That explains the throbbing then. Reid took a deep breath letting his hand flop down beside him. He had expected to feel the comforter of the bed not something wet. He looked down and nearly jumped out of his skin. Lying next to him in a pool of blood was- an arm. He lifted his hand out of the blood and stared wide eyed at the severed apendage. He slowly backed away from it a wave of nausea nearly overcoming his senses. At the same time he had discovered the arm the door next to the bed was knocked down startling the young man even more than he was. Police officers in full uniform filed into the room all their guns trained on him. In his fright, and lack of better judgment of where he was, Reid backed up only to fall off the bed. He tried to put his hand out to catch himself and winced when a piece of glass cut into his hand, but he had bigger problems than that right now. The uniformed officers were now shouting at him.

"Freeze!""Don't move!"

Reid was swiflty overwhelmed, an officer shoving him down to the floor face first, and being more rough than need be, shoved his hands behind his back and cuffed them.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing?" Reid tried to talk to the person holding him but instead of a reply he got his face shoved painfully into the ground by said officer making the headache he was having flare.

"Shut up, you piece of crap. You're under arrest for the murders of ten people," he said right in Reid's ear. Had he been in his right mind and not suffering from a concussion Reid would have told the man that he had it wrong but the only thing that was going through his head was one thing. He was being accused of murder. He was pulled up by another officer who read him his Miranda Rights and as he was being shoved out the door he caught sight of the arm on the bed. They were wrong, he wasn't a killer. But how was he going to explain the arm in the bed if Reid didn't even know where he was, how he got there, and more importantly, who the arm belonged to?

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When they arrived at the police station Reid was still trying to gather his wits. Even in his patrially lucid state he had seen the sign when they had entered the precinct. He was in California. The officers who were escorting him ignored all his advances, thinking he was trying to lie his way out of a conviction. He was roughly pulled into an interrogation room, shoved down into a stainless steel chair, and handcuffed (tightly) to a leg of the table. The headache Reid had woken up with was still pounding away behind his eyes prohibiting him from thinking straight and gathering his thoughts properly. What was going on? The last thing he remembered was coming back from a case with the team and heading back to his apartment. Did he get jumped on his way home? Did he get kidnapped again? Reid's whole body tensed as memories of being stuck in that cabin with Tobias Hankel, a man with disscociative identity dissorder, and being tortured and drugged by him over a course of two days. He had overcome his addiction of dilaudid afterwards, but he didn't think he'd survive if he became addicted again. Withdrawal had been painful the first time around. Reid's head gave another painful throb, he reached up and put his hand to his head, the wound had stopped bleeding but he needed to get it looked at soon. How he had gotten here, he didn't know, but he did know that he had woken up to a severed limb, a concussion, and being arrested by the CPD. Were they working a case here? No, if they were his team would have barged in and demanded that he be released. Was somebody trying to frame him? Unhumanly fast his mind went over a list of people who might have a grudge against him. Unfortunately, the list was extremely long. When you've been putting bad guys away for almost seven years you tend to make more than a few enemies-

The sound of the door opening brought him back into awareness. He looked up and saw a woman in her mid to late thirties, with scarlet hair and green eyes, wearing a suit, enter the room. Reid watched her and he could already tell she was in charge of their investigation. He winced and scrunched his eyes shut when she let the door slam behind her. His headache gave a painful flare and he couldn't stop the groan of pain from making itself known.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. I forgot you had a concusion," the woman said, her voice laced with obvious sarcasm. Reid opened his eyes and glanecd at her. She stood there with her arms folded across her chest trying to look intimidating. Reid waited for the woman to begin talking to him and when she didn't he opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. "Let's get one thing straight. You're kind disguists me, and I would rather be at home watching paint dry than spend my weekend here with trash like you. So let's not prolong this. You will address me as either Detective Rizzo or ma'am, anything else and I'll make sure your stay here is a living hell, and that's not a threat it's a promise and I make it my personal vendetta to keep _all _my promises. Do we understand each other?"

Reid knew his demeanour and look gave off an aura of unconfidence and easy submission so he knew that the detective was playing on that which explained the tough attitude and threats. Had he been an actual unsub this women would probably scare the living hell out of him but he'd dealt with much scarier and a lot more intimidating people. He had been twelve years old in a public Las Vegas high school, he learned to not be afraid of her type very quickly. Because fear is what they wanted and if you didn't show it they'd leave you alone. Though that hardly ever worked he refused to be afraid of them and to comply unless his beating would take a turn for the worse. So he decided that he would play her game if only to gain some ground with her.

"Yes, I-"

"Good," she said cutting him off again. "I'm glad we understand each other. Now, why don't you tell me why you murdered ten innocent people and why you were stupid enough to sleep next to the evidence? What happened? Your last victim put up a fight because you couldn't incapacitate them? Is that why you knock them unconscious?" her eyes racked over his body with a calculating look before smirking at him. "Well, now I can see why you had to knock them out. You're a little lacking in the manly department aren't you? Is that why you kill people because you feel emasculated, eh, pretty boy?"

"Detective Rizzo," Reid said a slight edge to his voice. The headache and the fact that these people didn't seem to want to listen to him was making him agitated and moody and the nickname that Derek had given him being used as an insult was not helping either. "I'm not your killer. My name is Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid. I work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI in Quantico, Virginia. I don't know how I ended up in that hotel room, or in California for that matter. The last thing I remember is walking to my apartment in _Virginia_." He emphasized the last part. "And if you don't believe me then you can call my boss in Quantico. His name is Aaron Hotchner, he'll confirm my identity."

The woman in front of him flashed him a devilish grin, almost like she wasn't surprised when he identified himself.

"Oh I know who you are Dr. Reid, Agent Hotchner and I are good friends. In fact I already called him and he and his team are on their way down here, they have some questions for you too."

Reid looked at her confused. She knew who he was? Then why was he still here and why was the team headed here? Why would they have questions for him?

"And I would release you based on who you are, but there's only one problem. My killings began two weeks ago," pause. "And according to your team that's the same time _you_ went missing. Now do you see my dilemma?"

Reid looked at her wide-eyed, he was missing…wait, what?

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_4 hours earlier_

Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner was known for his abilities to hide his emotions, compartmentalize, and his ability to effectively run his team. His famous 'death glare' helped give power to his serious demeanour and stoic features. He was a man who used his heart more than his head, even if others thought different. But, had you watched closely you could see the subtle changes and the minor slip ups that had recently begun to occurr, and though he usually caught himself he was slipping more and more everyday.

Hotch sat in his office in his usual suit and tie accompanied by a deep sorrowful look on his face. The past two weeks had not been easy on the team nor had it been easy on him. The day he and Morgan had gone to their youngest agent's house only to find it abandoned and his gun and credentials left for them had been a bad one. They had tried everything to find him. Garcia the amazing computer tech she was couldn't locate him. But that was understandable, Reid knew how Garcia's system worked therefore he knew how to avoid it as well. They hadn't taken on any cases since then hoping against hope that he really hadn't just up and left them. He wouldn't just walk away from all that they'd been through, would he? Hotch had ordered a forensic's team sweep Reid's apartment down to see if there was any chance that the young man had been taken, and though Hotch hoped he hadn't he felt slight disguist with himself when he had wished for that scenario then the former being Reid leaving them. When they had found nothing Morgan had called them 'a bunch of incompetent idiots if they couldn't find any clues about who had taken Reid.' Hotch had had to remove him from the apartment lest he say something that got himself and Hotch in trouble, even though he had agreed with him. But now, two weeks later he was beginning to believe that maybe Reid had left. He had been distancing himself lately and acting strange. Amazing how as profilers they couldn't tell when one of their own was in distress. Emily had come forward a few days later to tell them that Reid had been experiencing headaches as of late and hadn't wanted anyone to know about them. That statement had nearly sealed the deal. Reid had always been afraid that he would end up like his mother, a paranoid schizophrenic, locked up in a sanatorium somewhere. They hadn't wanted to believe that that was the reason their young genius had left but, it was looking more like that every day. Reid was 28, and at a prime age for the manifestation of schizophrenia, that coupled with Emily's revelation of Reid's headaches left little to be discussed. Morgan hadn't wanted to believe it, thinking that they were all jumping to conclusions. But, there had been no contact, word, or even a sign from Reid. Garcia had been constantly checking to see if he happened to use his credit card or even if his name popped up in some estrange place, any news at this point was better than no news.

Hotch was brought out his thoughts by his phone ringing. He debated for about a second wether or not to answer it, he was not in the mood to talk to anyone but before he coud stop his body's natural reaction he was picking up his phone and answering it.

"Hotchner."

"_Hello Aaron, it's Leann_."

Hotch scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. He had worked a couple cases with Leann Rizzo back when Gideon was still on the team, she wasn't a woman to mess with, and he had had to learn that the hard way.

"I'm going to assume this isn't an out of the blue social call," he said into the reciever.

"_You'd be right about that. I have a case for you. Ten bodies, all dismembored, and an eleventh person still missing-"_

"-And you want my team and I to come in and help you find your unsub?"

"_We already have our suspect in custody."_

Hotch scruched his eyes in confusion. Why would she need their help if they already caught the guy.

"I don't follow. If you already have a suspect what good would us coming down there be?"

"_Because of who my suspect is. It's your agent, Dr. Reid, I believe his name is. We found him in a hotel room with one of our victim's missing limbs and according to you your agent has been missing for two weeks? Well that's the exact time frame as when my murders started."_

Hotch was frozen, the color drainng from his face. She'd found Reid. He was in California. He'd been arrested for murder. He was found next to a victim's limb. They'd found him. All those thoughts and more went through Hotch's mind in rapid sucession.

"_Hello? Aaron are you there?"_

"Yes, I'm here. We're on our way."Without even waiting for a response Hotch hung up the phone and bolted up from his desk. The good news was they'd found him, but now he was being accused of murder? Something was definitely not right and he and the team were going to get to the bottom of it.

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**This chapter was kind of slow…it will pick up either next chapter or the one after that, I'm not sure yet. I don't know when I'll update next but if I get 10 reviews I'll add a new chapter before the end of this week!**

**I'm out**

**-Nami**


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